Red Bones, Red Bones
by Shazzie
Summary: When the Jeffersonion gets given the Red John case, will the killer finally be taken down? And is it really Jane who wants him dead the most... It does include Bones, Very AU, I own nothing. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

Always Red John.

It was always the Red John case that ate away at him.

Not the child molesting cases.

Not the sadistic torture cases.

Not her undying love for him.

Red John.

Always Red John.

Always Angela.

Always Charlotte.

Always Red John.

XXX

They sat in silence. They drove in silence. They walked in silence. No words were needed. No words were said. Red John. He had struck again.

He always struck again.

And again.

And again.

Like the debt you can never pay, like the child you can never love, like the marriage that fell apart, like the religion that didn't hold up. Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

So there they sat; there they sat in pure and utter silence. Driving. Not speaking. Just driving. Driving halve the way across the USA, from one end to another.

See this Red John case, it was different.

It was so different.

And yet it was the same.

The face on the wall; the stab wounds; the art.

The art of Red John.

It was perfect.

It was Red John.

The same Red John that had claimed the life of Angela Ruskin- Jane. The same Red John that had claimed the life of Charlotte Anne Jane. The same Red John that had taken the life of Lorelei Martins. The same Red John who had a price over Teresa Lisbon's head.

It was _defiantly _Red John.

So that led them to where we are now.

Driving.

Driving.

Driving in silence.

All 5 members of the team, driving.

All 5 members of the team, driving in silence.

All 5 members of the team, driving in silence towards DC.

DC.

Washington, DC.

Washington, DC, to go and play "Can we catch Red John" with a team of people who call themselves the smartest.

Who call themselves the best.

Who call themselves the Jeffersonion Institute.

A Forensic Anthropologist with degrees and Phds all over the place.

A Forensic Pathologist who was.. Well… a Forensic Pathologist.

A Forensic Botanist- yeah. You heard me.

A Artist. What the hell is an artist doing with a team like that?

And an FBI agent.

_God this is gunna be awful. _Jane thought, as he scoffed. On the rare occasions that he dealt with the FBI had ended beyond badly- and they usually included a law suit or two against him.

"Jane?" Lisbon asked him, as the rest of the team exited the van to go get the details of the case. HE had been in another world for hours.

"Mh?" He said wearily, still staring into space. Lisbon chuckled inwardly.

"We're here.." She said cautiously, as she watched the color drain from his face. "Jane?"

And that was it.

The mask was back up.

The most practised poker face in the world took its unwelcome place on his face.

Again.

"Yeeessss, Lisbon?" He smiled at the concern in her eyes, as she tilted her head, pursing her lips.

"Never mind, Jane. Lets get this over with." She puffed as she too exited the van to join her team, Jane closely at her tail.

As she entered the babble and the noise that DC brought, she saw her team conversing with two women. They were both beautiful, one with a darker complexion than the other. Even from this distance she could tell that the two women had seen so much worse than this. Another man knelt in a jumpsuit identical to the ones the other two women were wearing near a body. A fresh body of a little blonde girl with curly hair that fell just above her shoulders.

She could have been Charlotte's twin.

Jane froze, as she turned.

He had seen her.

He had seen the little girl.

He had seen the little _dead_ girl.

"Jane ar-"

"Doctor Saroyon, why am I here?" A loud voice interrupted as a small brunette strode past in a similar jumpsuit, with such confidence you could have mistaken her for the president. Her pony tail bounced from side to side as she walked towards the older woman. The man on the floor sent a smile her way, which she graciously returned. The Asian chick that wasn't really Asian grinned pull time at the confident figure, before looking down at the body, her smile wiped from her face.

"Brennan, nice to see you here. We have another victim" She gestured towards the body "We need you to identify th-"

"Cam, that body has flesh on it. I believe that is more your area of expertise." She raised her eyebrows as the team from California surrounded them. "Hello, my name is Temprance Brennan, I'm a Forensic Anthropologist and this isn't my job-" she looked at the flesh covered body. "There is no point in telling me your names, I will not remember them. You see, I am important, there is only one of me. You… your not so important. There are many of you- so I will not learn your names unless I feel absolutely necessary." She smiled before turning back to her boss. "If that's all, Doctor Saroyan?"

"No, Doctor Brennan, it's not." She started to walk towards the barn behind them.

"Wayne!" A large man shouted from Brennan's car, as he ran towards the agents.

"Seely!" He pulled the man into a bear hug as the laughed, totally ignoring the body that lay next to them.

"Don't call me Seely.."

"Don't call me Wayne…"

They laughed as they turned to the three confounded agents, the scientist, the artist and the consultant.

"Guy's, this is my little cousin." Booth said to the scientist and artist, as Rigsby did the same for his team.

"Waiiitttt…" The artist spoke. "So theres Studly, there's Brother Studly, there's Baby Studly, there's Grandpa Studly, and now there's Cousin Studly too! " She laughed at the joke that the large agent and she obviously shared.

"Booth- this is Lisbon, Van Pelt, Cho… and… Jane."

"Hey- nice to meet you. Look- Bones- she doesn't mean it.. She doesn't do well with.. Well.. People.." He laughed as Jane stepped forwards.

"You're obviously ex-military, you have a very keep eye, so I presume it was a sniper? You have one child… Two children, and one of them is with Doctor Brennan?"

"Dude, that's creepy." Booth replied as they begun making there way towards the farmhouse. Jane shrugged, as he heard the voice of the socially- naiive Doctor Brennan.

"Booth!"

"Oh no…" Jane heard, as the huge agent jogged towards his partner.

"Look Jane, she cant talk to anyone without a big agent with his big badge out behind her… The two of you should get along!" Cho said as he too entered the barn. Lisbon smiled into herself.

Doctor Brennan was standing in the middle of the outbuilding, as everybody else stood stock-still. In the corner of the room, there was a pile of bones, brown and bloody, with insects crawling all over. Her head snapped up as the team walked into the building.

"Stop!" She practically screamed. "Stop…" She took a seep breath and spun around again, carefully making her way across towards the face on the wall. "Stop… Booth, I need you to very carefully walk towards me, and don't you dare stand on that line of foot prints.." She pointed towards a faded set of footprints in the hay of the barn.

Jane looked around the dark barn- clearly it hadn't been used in quite some time. There was a small window at the center of the left roof panel, sending bright rays of sunlight into the room that reflected of the mirror and lit up the remains like they would have been in a horror house. He looked towards some of the techs, where he saw the smiley face painted on the first panel of wood you saw after coming through the main- entrance. It was faded, but it was there. Like always.

Three fingers.

Right hand.

Clockwise.

Gloves.

Blood.

Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

"What am I doing Bones" Booth called out as he slowly made his way towards the anthropologist.

"Who has been in this room? More importantly.. If you are a size 10 male, please raise your hand?" She called out, completely ignoring her partners queries. About halve a dozen men raised there hands. "Okay, who has treds on the bottom of their shoes that form 10 zigzags?" All of the men lowered their hands. "Good. Booth, I need you to stand just to the left of this footprint here. You.. Err.. What's your name? I don't care.. Come and stand on Booth's right." Rigsby did as was asked of him. Once the two large men stepped away from the footprints they had just made, there was a clear trend emerging.

"Jane, is it? You're supposed to be a mentalist, so why don't you get over here, without treading on the footprints, and tell me what you observe from this." Jane strode over, faking his confidence.

"Um.. I.. I usualy work with victims who have a bit more.. Well a bit more.. Flesh…" He said, covering his mouth. Brennan chuckled.

"Anthropologically speaking, I can understand why you analyse everything. After your wife and daughters deaths, it is a kind of paranoia. A coping mechanism. Before then, it was a way to assert your alpha-male primitive genes. You had everyone hanging off of you're every word. Many tribes in Eastern Asia would have a person who could control the tribe through his or her- but usually his due to sexism- mental abilities and keen eye for observation." Even Jane was chuckling now, despite the mention of his dead wife and daughter. Brennan turned around and began assessing the body.

"Okay, so our victim is female, late teens, early twenties, she was an asthmatic and Caucasian. She had light blue eyes and brown hair with blonde highlights. She has been dead for approximately three weeks, but excessive sunlight and insect activity have degraded her remains. She was about 5 foot 8" and she weighed around 120 pounds. Now, I want these three sets foot prints sent back to the Jeffersonion, after Ange has photographed them. The remains too, should be sent back to the Jeffersonion immediately. Hodgens, take samples from the face on the wall and see if you can find out what kind of glove was used. Then do your buggy thing. As for what to do with the body covered in flesh, throw it away for all I care. Go to Cam for your instructions on that one. And if any of this" she gestured around her "is in any less than perfect condition when I get it back, I will find out who did it, and I will kill them. This is a serial killer, and we all know how they need to be handled. If we learnt anything from the Grave-Digger, from Howard Ebbs, from Pelant, its that every little detail matters. Don't disappoint me." She concluded and flew out of the room. Booth nodded and followed her. As she slid into the car, he doubled back, ignoring the bewildered look on her face.

"Jane?" He asked, pulling him and Lisbon aside as her team moved towards the car.

"Your colleague is.. Interesting.." Lisbon said, barely able to hold a chuckle.

"Yeah… She.. Well she's Bones." He shrugged. "Jane, I need you to give the squints complete access to the Red John records and case files. No limits. You have to tell them everything. And I mean everything."

"I will."

"You're lying, Hey, it's your choice. They will find everything out anyway, but if you want to catch Rend John sooner rather than later, then you're going to have to tell them everything. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. You get me?" Booth turned and walked towards the car before Jane could reply. He nodded at Agent Lisbon as he sat next to Brennan in the car.

"Jane.." She turned towards him.

"He's right. I need to tell them everything. They will catch him, wont they."

"Yes. They will find the evidence that the CBI techs never did. These people all have higher IQ's than Einstein. If anyone can catch him and send him to jail, it's them. I read a few case files.. Even the interns are good on the-"

"He won't make it to the courts Lisbon. I thought you understood that." Jane said, looking towards the ground. "It's me or it's him. There's no other way around it." Hurt flashed in her eyes at the prospect of loosing Jane for more than six months. Those six months had killed her. Each second without Jane at her side ate away at her. But he would never know. He would never care. Because of Red John.

_God, if he doesn't kill Red John, I will. _She caught herself thinking. _No. No you are not in love with him, Reece. You.. Your NOT! You.. I.. I cant be.._

**A/N- I love reveiws, even if I cant always reply to them. So i will make this a mutichapter if I get five reveiws? I posted this as a Mentalist story becasue although the Jeffesonion and its team play an imortant role in this now, they will die away eventualy. This is a Mentalist fic eventualy! Pure Mentalsit fluff- just give it some time. The rating is for future chapters (that is, if you reveiw!)... Da Da Dahhhh.. Thanksx xx **


	2. Chapter 2

Red Bones, Red Bones. Chapter two.

Stunned. That is one way to describe Patrick Jane after having walked into the Jeffersonion Institute. Museums and state of the art technology and Einstein's decedents and interns who killed for there spot on Brennan's list. And limbo. Thousands upon thousands of sets of remains, unidentified, even when the best of the best, the crème de la crème got their hands on the remains. To be frank, it was terrifying. If he never got a break from death in his job, what about these people? They were always identifying a murder victim, and if they weren't they would be having debates about conspiracies of spending time identifying as many remains as possible in limbo. These people were like little Mo Farah scientists on steroids! It was constant..

Angela Montenegro had said that it was her who gave the victims a face, and Brennan who gave them a voice. _That's an understatement_, Lisbon thought as she and her team gave the scientists room to do what they do best.

"…Hodgens, can you identify this metal fragment if I remove it from the remains?.." "…The femurs are damages.." "..There is severe damage to the radius.." "..Defensive wounds…" "As well as the hairline fractures to the back of the neck.." "..A strong enough tazer could cause that.." "…Cause of death.." "…Stab wounds.." "..Slit Throat…" "…Victims facial reconstruction.."

"Am I the only one who has no idea what's going on?" Lisbon asked as her team stood, gob-smacked at the corner of the platform.

"Basically, it is text-book Red John. Slit throat, tazer to the neck." Booth said. He shrugged "I guess I have learnt something here…"

"He made a mistake." Brennan spoke softly, causing a wave of silence to pass over the room.

"Wh.. What?" Jane spoke, a smile breaking out on his face.

"He made a mistake." She said, a little louder, as Jane walked towards the table. "Don't touch! Gloves-" She pointed towards a set of latex cloves that Jane ignored. "Okay. Look, RJ severed the sixth rib completely, and the muscle. When he pulled the knife out, he slit the girls throat despite her being half- dead already," she called over an intern and began acting out the scenario. "He stabbed the girl, but instead of doubling over, like her reflexes would have told her too, she pushed forwards, into the knife. When he pulled it back out, she will have already been dying, but he slit her throat anyway." The scientists all grinned a little at the revelation, gasping and smiling at it.

"In English please…." Cho said.

"He stabbed himself. Right here" Hodgens pointed towards his abdomen "then slit her throat- his DNA is in her throat."

"And he made another mistake with the other victim." Cam spoke. "To have slit her wrists like this, from where we can see she was standing, he would've had to cut himself too. If he made this kind of mistake on each victim.." Cam looked at Doctor Brennan.

"Agent.. Er.. Libon.. Lisbon, is it?" Brennan questioned. "I may have to learn your name.. Can I speak with you, in my office?" Lisbon hesitantly agreed as she followed the anthropologist.

"What is it.. Doctor Brennan…"

"We need to exhume all of the remains. All of Red John's victims. _All _of them." She looked at Jane. "Even Mr Jane's family."

"I.. I don't know if you can do that.. Doctor Brennan.. It.." She took a deep breath. "it might not be such a great idea."

"To be bob, agent, if there is critical evidence on Jane's wife and daughter-"

"To be _frank _and if there was, don't you think that our techs would have noticed?"

"No. You're techs are not halve as good as us. If they were, they wouldn't be techs, they would be pathologists, or anthropologists, or botanist, or demonologists, or among us in some way or another. We need that evidence. We _need_ it." She spoke sternly.

"I.. I just don't know if we can Dr.."

"You don't have to call me Doctor Brennan, agent Lisbon. Consider it a peace offering, but I would like it if you just called me Brennan, or Bren', or Bones, like everyone else. That applies for your team, too."

"Thank you, Brennan, but I still don't know if it's wise.."

"Just talk to him. Ask him, and we will have all 38 victims exhumed. it's the best hope we have." She pursed her lips together, and it turned to a sympathetic halve- smile.

"I will. I'll talk to him- but I don't know.." She began.

"I appreciate it, Lisbon, thank you." She smiled again as she exited the office to continue with the preliminary findings of the Red John Victims numbers 39 and 40. _Ange and Sweets would say they're in love.. Right? _She wondered, as she jogged towards the platform. _It's me and Booth _all_ over again!_

XXX

"Brennan?" Angela asked, as she walked onto the platform. Hours had passed, on only four people were left on the platform- Brennan, Jane, Lisbon and Angela.

"Yeah, Ange?" She asked, absent mindedly.

"A…Ange?" Jane asked hesitantly, as Angela whipped around.

"Oh, hi! I'm sorry- we haven't been introduced yet! I saw you on the crime scene, but I was a little too engrossed in taking in the surroundings- every detail counts!" She spoke, approaching Jane and Lisbon with a grin and an open hand.

"Ange.. Like.. Like _Angela_?" He spoke, disregarding her hand.

"uh.. Yeah.. You're Jane rig- Oh. I.. I'm.." She spoke, understanding the situation. Jane shook his head.

"OK, _Ange_, have you completed the facial reconstruction?…" Brennan asked, oblivious to the pain Jane was facing, like a knife, like a thousand knives relentlessly stabbing him.. Again.. Again..

Angela.

Angela.

Angela _Montenegro_

Angela Ruskin

Angela Ruskin- Jane.

His Angela.

Not his Angela.

Red John.

Dead.

Blood.

Smiley face.

Charlotte.

Angela.

Angela Ruskin- Jane.

Angela Montenegro.

Not his Angela.

Not his Angela.

Red John.

Red John.

Must Kill.

Must Kill Red John.

Not his Angela.

Not his Angela.

Never _his _Angela.

"Jane?" Lisbon asked wearily. Jane pushed past the three women and ran down the platform, out of the building, off of the street, out of calling distance, out of the city, out of the country, out of the wotld, out of the galaxy..

Because of Red John.

Always Red John.

Not the sadistic child killers.

Not the paedophiles.

Not her blatant and clear undying love for him.

Red John.

So he ran. And she followed. And he went to a motel. A cheap crappy motel with no hot water and beds that creaked as you opened the door. And she followed.

She always followed.

But he deserved what he got.

He deserved what he got as he sat on said creaky bed, with no hot water as three sharp knocks rang out like nothing else. He deserved what he got when he stood, and felt his muscles scream with pain, his brain emotionally drained, begging for the release he knew wasn't far away- but not a pleasurable release. A release that stopped everything; put an end to the misery. Death.

He didn't deserve what he got when she walked through the door that he opened, and sat on the bed that creaked when you opened the door, and turned off the tap that didn't know the meaning of "hot water". He didn't deserve her.

"What's doing on?" She said, concern drowning her eyes.

"Her name.. Her name is.. Angela.." He spoke, tears running down his face.

"Jane.." She stood and pulled him into a tight hug, her tiny frame pressed against his. "Jane, I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry Jane."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." He spoke as he pulled out of her embrace and went to put the kettle on. "Tea?"

"Sure.."

"Lisbon…" He raised an eyebrow, his poker face securely back in place.

"Brennan asked me if she could get a court order to exhume all of Red John's victims." She spoke quickly.

Suicidal. That was one way to describe Jane when he heard.

And then he wasn't.

Poker Face.

That damned Poker Face.

He nodded. "And what did you say?" He questioned, as if it meant nothing to him.

"I.. I said I would talk to you.."

"What does my opinion change things? If it's a court order she wants, it's a court order she'll get. My feelings don't change that Lisbon." He continued stirring the tea.

"Don't do that, Jane."

"Do what, Teresa?" He continued stirring the tea as if she wasn't even there.

"Pretend like this means nothing to you! Pretend like you don't even care-"

"Don't care! Look who you're talking to Lisbon! I've spent the last 10 years of my life hunting a serial killer! For what!"

"Dammit Jane! Don't do this! Don't put your walls back up, let me in! We're partners-"

And that was it. That was all he could take. He walked up to her, and smashed his lips into hers. He did what he had always wanted to do; what she had always wanted him to do.

And she didn't fight it.

She didn't object.

She didn't push him away.

Her lips moved against his. Her body was pressed against his, her arms hanging abound his shoulders as her fingers found the very first blonde curls on his head, and she started playing with them. She twirled them, and she pulled at them, and she massaged his head like no-one had ever done before.

That was it.

That was all it took.

That was all it took to rive him over the edge.

He shoved her tiny frame against the wall as she straddled his thighs. His hand found the bottom of her shirt, and began untucking it from her trousers.. Unbuttoning it.. Her bra.. The dark lace.. Green.. Complemented her eyes.. Had to come off…

"Jane.. Jane stop.." She spoke, as she practically ran from him.

"Terezzaaa…"

"No. Not here. Not like this.. We cant.." She buttoned up her shirt as he clung to the wall.

"Please, just stay.."

"No Jane. I.. I'll see you in the morning at the Jeffersonion, same time as usual."

"Lisbon.."

"Goodnight, Jane."

And with that, she left. She sprinted- no, she sprinted, to her car as he clung now to the door frame, tears running down his face. Yet, his shoulders were stock still. The tears didn't change his demeanour, they didn't change him. It was as if he had built up a tolerance to the pain, like an alcoholic builds up a tolerance for the alcohol. And that thought ate away at her. It killed her a little more, knowing that she couldn't be with him, knowing the pain it was causing him.

She sat, in her car. She sat in her car with her head in her hands, and she cried. She cried for him, for the Jeffersonion, for the things her father did to her, for Bosco being dead, for her brothers, for the sister she never had, for her mother's irrupt departure, for Rigsby and Van Pelt's failed relationship, for the thing's Cho has seen, for Charlottes life being cut so short, for Angela never being able to say goodbye, for Brennan's general lack of know-how when it came to making friends. She cried for herself, and she cried for Jane. She just cried.

And cried.

And cried.

XXX

**A/N- So not the Jisbon ending I was hoping for, but more will be revealed in the next chapter.. That is.. If I get a few reviews! Thank you, everyone who has already followed or reviewed my story!**


	3. Chapter 3

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 3

The sound of a small infant crying made her head snap up from the book she had been buried in. Her small infant. That always made her smile, even if it was irrational, even if it was illogical. She had a child. Cool. She would raise said child. Nice. She had created, carried and given birth to said small child.

Amazing.

That thought, the fact that there was someone who would look up to her, someone who would love her unconditionally, someone who she had created with the man she was in love with.

Fantastic.

Illogical.

Irrational.

But it still made her squirm with delight; it still made her smile; it still made her feel like a candle had been lit in the bottom of her metaphorical human heart.

Illogical.

Irrational.

The best thing that had ever happened to her.

"I've got it," a masculine voice spoke from behind her, in the kitchen of the house she had bought; the house she had bought with the man she loved; the house she had bought with the man she loved who was the father of her child. The same child who now (by the sounds of it) needed a change of nappies.

Supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious.

Illogical.

Irrational.

She chuckled inwardly. It was illogical; it was irrational. It was illogical that a small child should make her feel his way. It was irrational that she should have actually thought _supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious_- is that even a word?

And then there was her partner. Her partner in love, in war, in crime, in pain, in passion_- in bed…_

The man she loved. The man she would spend the rest of her life with. The man who she thought about every second of every day. The man who would wake up next to her, and fall asleep in the exact same place on the exact same bed every single day, until death do them part.

Booth.

And that, in itself, was irrational. It was illogical. The human race was not meant to tie themselves down to one person, or to another. Science and sociology tell us that we are meant to have multiple partners; with whom we share multiple children. It is all to do with the survival of the race.

But none of that mattered.

None of that mattered, because of Booth.

They weren't a part of an aboriginal tribe. They weren't ancient figures living in an ancient world. They were here, and they are now. They live in a world where to tie oneself down to one person is completely normal- expected even. Where to have multiple children, to have multiple children with multiple men is to be a player, or a slut.

And that was illogical.

And that was irrational.

But, as Booth so frequently said, there was no way of explaining the entire world with science. Well, there was, but there would never be one that the entire world would be happy with. They would keep on questioning things- and Brennan loved that. She loved finding answers, seeking the truth.

And that was logical.

And that was rational.

Everything she did, everything she thought, was supposed to be rational, logical. She was Doctor Brennan, she was the most rational person that she had ever met. She was Doctor Temperance Brennan, the best Forensic Anthropologist in the world. She had to be logical. She had to be rational.

But she wasn't. As she sat there, in her own home, she questioned things that had been explained by science. She had fallen in love with things that were not rational. She had tied herself down to one man. She was letting her emotions back in, after she had fought so hard to destroy any feeling she had ever had. The hurt, the pain, the anger, the love, they would only bring her grief. But to do so.. To do so meant to shut out the happiness, the joy, the love, the world. And after a rational, and a logical debate in her mind, she had decided what was best. She had shut them out. And now she was letting them back in. She was falling in love.

She had fallen in love.

It was irrational.

It was illogical.

It was Booth.

It was the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

It was the man she would love forever, and always.

It was the life she would lead, for now and forever.

It was Booth.

"Bones.." The love of her existence asked from behind her. "Are you okay there…"

"Huh?" She snapped up out of the daydream that was inhabiting her mind.

"Thought I lost you for a moment there, Bones." He laughed and placed the small child, her small child, their small child, in the play- pen that had cost them a considerable $799.99. Well.. Considerable meant different things to the two adults. One saw considerable as a being a large sum of money. The other was less concerned about finances, and saw considerable as being.. Well.. The other didn't really.. The other didn't really understand the term "over-kill".

"I.. I just can't get that man out of my head. Jane. I keep thinking about him.." Brennan began, as Booth gave her a strange look. "NO! Not in a sexual way! I would never even consider a sexual relationship with him! He's to.. Damaged… I mean, I can't stop thinking about what he does. Me and you, we've dedicated our lives to catching killers, solving murders, finding the truth, but he.. HE plans on killing. He doesn't care about the truth… He just wants to kill, and yet, his superiour agents let him continue working with the force? isn't that like giving a killer a gun and telling him that the authorities would turn a blind eye? Isn't it.. isn't it wrong? I mean.. In many primal tribes-"

"Bones, we're not in a primal tribe. We're not in a world like that. And in a way.. I suppose having him in such close quarters is better than having him parading the streets on his own. It's lie a form of surveillance- he can't cause to much damage if the authorities are always looking over his shoulders, can he? And.. Bones if.." He took a deep breath.

"What?" She asked, uncertain of herself.

"If someone did that.. To you and Christine.. I.."

"No! Booth- you couldn't! I mean you could move on! You're a good looking male, with a wonderful little boy.. If me and Christine.. If something were to happen to us, I would want.. We would want.."

"But I wouldn't, Bones. That's what you don't get. I love you. I. Love. You. I will never love another woman as much as I love you. Moving on.. I wouldn't want that. I wouldn't want to betray you like that. You, Doctor Temperance Brennan, are the love of my life."

His speech brought tears to her eyes, as had been done on so many occasions before now. When the case about the victim of 9/11 victim who had been stuck in Bone Storage (or Limbo, as Angela liked to call it) had come up, when the14 year old, Collin was.. Killed. When the hormones of pregnancy had taken over and she had cried on the field. These meant nothing to her. These.. These were tears of sadness.

They were illogical.

They were irrational.

These tears.. These tears that she felt now were tears of love. Her love for him. Her unconditional, irrational, illogical love for him; for the small infant they had brought into the world. And she buried herself in him. Both physically, metaphorically and emotionally. He was her metaphorical rock. He was her _soul. _Her heart would be safe, as long as she was with him. He would protect her, he would protect Christine. And she would protect him. She would love him. She would be completely and totally faithful to him.

It was illogical.

It was irrational.

It was Booth.

It was her Booth.

It was the man she would love, every day, of forever.

Booth.

XXX

Lisbon wandered through the desolate streets of DC. She just walked, and walked, and walked until her legs hurt.

And she carried on walking.

She carried on walking.

And she carried on walking.

She carried on walking until she had no idea where she was. She carried on walking until she had mentally kicked herself- mentally killed herself- enough times to get all of the lust she had built up, all of the desire she felt at the pit of her stomach, as close to naught as possible.

So she kept walking.

Because they would never be gone. She would always love him. And she knew that. She knew that he was off limits, she knew that he would never look at her, never feel for her, how she felt for him.

So she kept walking.

Damn her. Damned her for falling in love with the one man who could never love her back. The one man who had promised his soul to another…

The man who she had to face, every day.

The man who she had to watch die a little more each day.

So she kept walking.

And she kept walking.

And she kept walking.

XXX

"Has anyone seen Lisbon?" Jane asked, as he sat down on the largest sofa of the inside balcony-thingy the Jeffersonion had, graciously accepting the cup of tea Rigsby put in front of him.

"Nope." They replied in union.

"Does anyone know where Lisbon is…"

"Jane, she's a big girl, she can take care of herself. She probably just overslept." Cho replied easily, looking up to see a well-rested Doctor Brennan walking towards them.

"Where's Agent Lisbon? I had a few questions for her…" She looked around, a look of disappointment on her face. "Did she at least talk to you about the exhumation order?" She asked, emotionlessly. A look of pain and grief flew across Jane's face.

"Yes. She did. And I.. if you have to.. But I.. I would rather you.. Well .. didn't.." He looked down sheepishly.

"Okay then. Well maybe my detailed examinations will change your mind. If you would like to attend said examinations, please be at the bone room in 20 minutes, that's when we will start." SHe nodded as she turned curtly towards the door.

"Lisbon.. She want's you to have your.. Your family exhumed?" A look of outrage passed across Van Pelt's face. "If these scientists cant solve the case with what they've got than we may as well go back to California. This is pointless! I mean, that woman doesn't know about loss! She is the most detached human being I've ever met!" Grace continued to ramble as Jane stood up, making his way to the bone room. "Jane?"

"You may be right, Grace. But I need to hear her out. If you don't follow me down there, maybe you should think about trying to get into contact with Lisbon." And he walked away.

Just like that.

Just like he did when he left for Vegas.

Just like he would do when Red John was dead.

Because that was who he was; that was who he was raised to be. He didn't get tied down. He didn't get attached- he tried that once, and look where it had gotten him. A house was just a house. A person was just a person. A job was just a job. Sex was just sex. He came, he sought, and he left. That was Patrick Jane. That was what he had always, and would always be.

"He doesn't get it." She said, as soon as he was out of earshot.

"No he doesn't." Cho said.

"He's the observant one! How does he not see how insanely in love with him she is!" She practically shouted.

"He Didn't see her when he left. We didn't even know before then. After though, after everything that happened to her, we saw. Give him some credit Van Pelt. She is a much better liar than he gives her credit for." Rigsby spoke up.

"He can't see what he has, because he's too busy avenging the things he's lost." She shook her head.

"There's something poetic about it all- isn't there?" Cho muttered to himself.

"Yeah, poetic and sadistic."

"We need to be at that detailed examination. As much as he is a idiot for not her love, he deserves some help through this. It was his family, after all." Rigsby said again, shuddering at the thought of someone hurting Van Pelt or Ben.

"Yeah.."

XXX

Red John.

He had done this.

HE had done this to these little girls.

To his little girl.

To little girls everywhere.

To his wife.

To the woman he loved.

The only woman… No.

The woman he had promised his soul to.

Had. Past tense.

No. Present. He loved her. He had always, and will always love Angela. Noone else..

Because of Red John, he had noone else.

Red John.

Blood.

Smiley face.

Three fingers.

Clockwise.

Latex kitchen glove.

Blood.

Red John.

His wife.

His little girl.

His life.

Everything. Because of one interview.

Red John.

Smiley face.

Three fingers.

Blood.

Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

XXX

Throughout Doctor Brennan's description of the findings, Jane sat. Unresponsive. Uncaring. Unemotional. He had already made up his mind.

Red John had to die.

He had to.

He had to go.

That was it.

And there was only one way to do that.

So there he sat.

Unresposive.

Uncaring.

Unemotional.

Jane.

He was Jane. He was a Jane. He was an uncaring Jane who would end up a drunken alcoholic with no memories of the good times. He would end up in the crappy part of the carnival, he would end up dead.

They all would.

But he would die first. Because it was what he wanted.

He wanted to die.

He was sick of it. He was sick of life. He was sick of the horror, and of the pain. He was sick of the isolation he had created for himself, he was sick of the way Lisbon looked at him. She was in love. He knew that. Yet she couldn't have him. The man she loved. All because of that damned ring.

He knew that.

And he still wanted to die.

It's best for her, he convinced himself. I'm a Jane. You love me, you die. You love me too much, you are kept alive. Kept alive until my paranoia takes over and makes e push you away for your own protection.

And that's when he strikes.

When I push you away.

Because I love you.

Because I've always loved you.

But I love her.

It will always be her.

No.

It will always be Red John.

It will be Red John until the day I kill him.

The day I torture him.

The day I make him pay-

"I'm sorry I'm late.. I got… Caught up.." Lisbon looked down at herself. She was barely presentable. He still wore the same clothes as she had the day before. Although she had showered, she hadn't bothered to change. Her feet were sore, and blister ridden, causing a kind of limp, and her weight to be distributed unevenly. Her hair was in a loose bun, out of her face. Her skin was flushed, and without any makeup. Fortunately, she normally wore so little that the change was unnoticeable to everyone.

Everyone except Jane.

She was a mess. They all knew that. But it was Jane's turn to see. To see what he had done to her. And it hurt him. Like a million knives ripping through each of his lungs, making each breath harder and harder. Then his windpipe was hit. It was diced up, as if he was the target on "fruit ninja". And it killed him.

It killed him to see her like that.

But there he sat.

There he sat, unresponsive.

There he sat, emotionless.

There he sat.

Jane.

Born a Jane, died a Jane.

Died because of her.

"Doctor Brennan?" A small boy with a weak frame asked as he walked in.

"Ah, Mr Fisher. You are here to assist with the detailed examination of the remains, I presume?" She questioned, as she snapped the latex gloves on.

"Yes.."

"What! You cant have an intern working on a case like this!" Van Pelt burst out.

"I assure you, only the best and most qualifies of my many interns will be working on this case. I find that as they are in such desperate need of the jobs we offer, they work almost as hard as I do. That puts them about level with Hodgens on the how-hard-do-we-work scale. Which is pretty impressive. Now, I see no reason to take them off of the case, so I wont do so, until cause arrives. They, too, are good on the stands, with the right lead. Remember this- when we catch him, which we will, if you put us on the stand, we will get you a conviction. Because we seek the truth beyond reasonable doubt." She concluded as she began to look through the bones, assisted by the young boy.

"Van Pelt." Lisbon shot her agent a sharp look, causing her head to bow.

"There is a lot we can take from this. A lot o particulates have been left over the bones. This-" she gestured to the bones, "-is only the beginning. If he had made mistakes like this on all of the remains…"

"We will catch him." Cam finished for her, walking into the room. "There are just as many of there on the other victims remains. He has made so many mistakes. Soo many, its unbelievable. Of course, if we can get a hold of other victims, we an conclude beyond the reasonable doubt conclusions we have been able to draw up now."

"What ae you saying, doctor?" Lisbon asked, walking to the table.

"I'm saying that at the moment, we can catch you your killer if you give us complete access to the case. We can get you to a court. We can go on the stands, and we can get you maybe second or third degree for these two girls. If we get the other Red John victims, we can get you first degree on 40 accounts of unprovoked homicide. The decision is up to you." They looked towards Jane, who now sat, too deep in his memory palace to even flinch as they set their gaze apon him once more. He swallowed. He nodded, tears filling his eyes.

"Jane?" Lisbon asked, his head snappping up.

"Do it. Exhume them- all of them. Even Charl… Even my family. Do whatever it takes." He curtly walked out of the room, Lisbon closely at his heel.

"Jane?" She asked, as they entered the frost of mid-March weather in DC.

"Yes, Lisbon." He still didn't meet her eyes.

"Are yo.."

"Am I okay? No. I'm not. I'm not okay. I've just signed an order to have my wife and daughter along with 36 other people exhumed, and the woman I'm pretty sure im in love with wont even talk to me.."

"Jane.. Lorelei is dead. She wont ever talk to you. Erica is married and-"

"NO! Cant you see! I love you! I've always loved you! It's been you! Its been you ive been hunting red John for! So we can have a life!"

And he kissed her.

He put his lips against hers, eager to see if she would respond.

Hoping she would respond.

And she did.

Her smooth lips moved against his, his tounge seeking entery to her mouth. And she accepted it. She was gratefull for it. One hand slid to his chest, whilst the other continued where ithad left of the night before, playing with his curls.

"No.." She said, pulling away. "I.. We.. Red John.."She looked at him, sorrow, love and lust drowning her eyes.

So he let her go.

He walked away.

And he didn't look back.

He didn't look back to see tears streaming own her face.

He didn't.

He couldn't.

Just like he had done before.

Just like he would do again.

Because of Red John.

Red John.

Smiley face.

Three fingers.

Clockwise.

Blood.

Red John.

He would kill him.

He would torture him.

For her.

Because he loved her.

He loved Teresa.

Because of Red John.

Because of his Angela.

Because of Charlotte.

Because of Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

**A/N- This is the longest one I've written (I think!). I've surprised myself with this one! My exams tomorrow morning were canclled, so I had about 3 hours worth of revision time to fill with some other mindless activity.. Just Kidding! My brother came home from uni today, and with my exam cancelled, my parents left me alone for the entire night, and I guess I just got to writing! I spent more time on Brennan today, trying to get her more into character :D :D xx Reviews on how I did?**


	4. Chapter 4

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 4.

"Jane?" Lisbon knocked against the door of his motel room again,, a little louder as a dipicable woman from down along the building came out.

"Look luvvie', he aint in dere! He aint been in dere since las' nite! He came andde left! Now kwit your jibber jamming'!" She shouted, her North English accent clear despite all she did to cover it. Lisbon flashed her badge, shutting the woman up immediately. "Oh.. Eye.. Ur.. Eyme sorry, luvvie'." She went to close the door, as Lisbon jammed a foot in.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No."

"Was he with anyone?"

"No."

"Did he say anything."

"Ay." Lisbon waited, but the woman did not continue.

"So.."

"Oh. He said tell the little brunette he would see her at the dina'.. I s'pse you're the little brunette! Was hard to tell, youu see, with all the litt' brunettes in dis here town!" Lisbon had already turned to walk away as the lady continued with her _jibber jamming'. _This one was killing Jane. This was killing Jane.

He was killing Jane.

Red John.

Who else?

Lisbon hopped into the car, realising she wouldn't be late to witness the beginning of Doctor Brennan's identification process, as she had hoped. Oh joy. She turned the key, starting up the car and began the short drive that she hoped, not so deep in the back of her head, would last forever. Anything to avoid looking Jane in the eye when his wife and daughter rolled into the lab today.

_This is gunna be fun. _She thought, sighing as she put her foot on the gas, driving out of the motel parking lot.

XXX

"I, Doctor Temperance Brennan state that this is the body of Janet Peak."

"I, Doctor Camille Saroyan concur."

"I, Angela Montenegro, concur."

"Okay, move these two down the to bone examination room." Brennan said. It had been one of the longest days of her life, and one of the most emotionally fatiguing. She sighed as the remains of mother and daughter were brought to the centre of the platform. Jane jumped up, looking at the deteriorated remains of the woman he had loved, the child he had created. Despite endless work, it ad taken them eight hours to get through the first four victims, logging all of the injuries and removing any partials, even the ones that would very probably be dead ends, from the remains. Finally, they had moved onto the two sets of remains that everyone had hoped would never come. Angela Ruskin-Jane and Charlotte Anne Jane.

"Victim No4." Brennan said into the recorder. "The victim is Caucasian, female, early 30's to late 20's. Judging by the pelvic bones, the victim had given birth once. Approximately 176cm in height. Weight.. Its harder to tell. The victim was very active, especially in earlier years. Judging by the radius and femurs, the victim grew up doing an extreme sport or activity. Not swimming, or running, or anything along those lines judging by the diaphragm. From the evidence, I would say that she was extremely strong because of this activity.. She either grew up in some sort of carnival or she was a body builder, going off of the strength of the radius and other bones in the arms, more so the left than the right. Also, it looks as if her right shoulder was dislocated more than once in early childhood because of excess weight or pressure on her shoulder.

"The victim looks to have struggled. There are cut marks severing her radius, as well as bruising along her ribs and the side of her neck. This victim was also tazered, approximately an hour before her demise, due to the marks left on the side of her neck. They were old enough to begin to bruise, however they were in the premature stages of bruising. Angela, can you use the Angelatron to figure out the force of the marks left on the bones? Possibly even the height or weight of the assailant?" She asked.

"Sure." Angela snapped a photo of Angela's ribs, running through to her office to begin with the use of the Angelatron.

"I, Doctor Temprence Brennan" _Oh no.. Oh no.. Please no.. _Lisbon thought desperately. "state that this is the body of one, Angela Ruskin- Jane." Jane's fists were clenched as he looked at his wife's bones. Her bones. Her body. The body that should be standing next to him, on a beach somewhere in Malibu, with there huge family running amok around them. But no. And why?

Red John.

It was always Red John.

She moved towards the much smaller set of remains, with caution and worry in her eyes.

"Bones?" Booth said as he slid into the room, closely followed by Daisy Wick.

"The victim is Caucasian,8 or 9 years old. Approximately 127cm in height, weighing in at around 49KG." Brennan started, ignoring her partner and mate.

"Can we skip the whole confirming-what-we-already-know stage? Please? Its been hours and we're only on the sixth victim-"

"No. We've skipped vital stages, before, and people have ended up in hospital for it. Like me." Cam spoke, inspecting the remains.

"The victim was stabbed several times, after her demise. These injuries are all post-mortem." She gestured to the little girls abdomen. "The victim-"

"Don't call her that." Jane spoke, his fists clenched.

"Pardon?"

"Don't call her that! She had a _name, _she was a _person, _and your talking as if she meant nothing! Your talking as if you understand her-!" His voice stedily grew louder.

"No. Stop. Your too close to this case-"

"Like hell I am!" He shouted , his jaw clenched.

"No. Look at this, this is not your daughter. This is not the little girl you knew. To you, this is just the skeletal remains of a child. You cant see her like we can, you cant see the little things on her remains that make her who she is. This is not your daughter. To you, this is the thing that held up the little girl you knew, like the structure of a building."

"But she is my daughter! And you have no idea how much it hurts to see someone you love's _structure _here on this slab!"

"Yes I do. I do understand, Jane, better than you would ever know. Professional detachment. Your team has gotten to close to this case, and its clouding your vision. Red John is still out there, still killing because of the lapses in your professional judgement."

That was it. That was what it all came down to.

The child molesters.

The sadistic killers.

Her undying love.

It all came down to that.

It all came down to him.

To Red John.

He consumed them, like a depression.

He consumed them like the dreams of a dying soldier.

He consumed them like a sadistic serial killer.

He was a sadistic serial killer.

You see, some people, they don't know the difference between a depression and a sadness. A sadness is a part of you, a flicker of emotion. A sadness is a type of pain, and all pain goes away eventually.

But not depression.

Not like Red John.

A depression, it consumes you, it becomes who you are. Its like falling off a cliff. It happens fast, and if you can grab onto something, you do. You hold onto it for dear life then try to pull yourself back up. If you cant grab onto something, you will hit rock bottom.

And he had them.

Like a horrible depression, Red John had them clinging to the edges. Red Jon had them holding on for dear life, so close to the bottom that there was no point in holding anymore. There was no point iin trying anymore.

There was no point in doing this anymore.

And he knew that.

Jane knew that.

Lisbon knew that.

He knew that.

Red John.

Red John.

Always Red John.

As sadistic as a child molester, as guilty as a torturer, as consuming as a depression.

He was a showman.

He was a showman. His goal was to keep them entertained. Keep them watching till the end. Rack in the cash, divulge in the fame, love the ignorance of those around you. All he hadd to do was keep them watching.

And he had them.

Everyone of them was clinging to the edges of their seats, holding on for dear life, so close to rock bottom it was unbelievable.

Because he was a showman.

He was a sadistic, serial killing showman.

The hardest thing about depression is pulling yourself back up. People think that you can ling onto the edge for hours, days, weeks, months, years.. But you cant. Its like holding onto the monkey bars. You can only keep yourself up for so long.. And then.. And then..

And then you fall.

Unless there's someone to hold you up.

That was their jobs.

The Jeffersonion.

The scientists.

The anthropologist, the botanist, the pathologist, the artist, and the FBI agent.

Because they couldn't do this alone. They couldn't catch him on their own. They couldn't climb back up the cliff on their own. That had been their downfall. That was the thing that had been stopping them.

Well that was over now.

_We're coming for you… _Jane thought, as he took his place back in the chair, letting the Doctor continue with her work. The team knew what he was thinking. The team thought it too. He was going down. He was going to die…

Red John.

Red John.

Red-

"I, Doctor Camille Saroyan state that this is the body of one, Charlotte Anne Jane." She spoke quietly.

"I, Fisher, Squintern, state that this is the body of on-"

"Wait." Brennan spoke, her head looking from mother to supposed daughter. Something was obviously bothering her. "This.. This feels wrong. Look at the skulls, they're so.. Different… And it doesn't match his either.." She looked at the skull again.

"Yeah.. I can see that. It doesn't fit.." Angela spoke up, walking into the room.

"What… What do you mean Mrs Montenegro.." Jane spoke, avoiding eye contact with the artist.

"This doesn't fit… There's something wrong.." Brennan spoke quietly.

"Ange, can you do a facial reconstruction? I just.. This feels wrong…"

Angela picked up the skull and took her too her office, placing the skull on a machine gently. The entirety of both teams followed her through. The machine began to beep.

And then there was a photo.

A photo of a little blond girl with tight curls and blue eyes.

It wasn't her.

It wasn't Charlotte.

It wasn't his daughter.

It wasn't her.

His heart stopped.

His breathing stopped.

His mind stopped.

For all of a split second, Jane was dead. He was dead to the world, dead to the knowledge he had just been given. Dead to her.

Gone.

And then he was back. His eyes had lost their light, if that was even possible. His breathing was slow whilst his heartbeat was erratic.

It wasn't her.

It wasn't his daughter, his baby girl.

It wasn't the girl killed by Red John.

Red John.

Red John had done this, but he hadn't killed her.

She.. Was she.. Was Charlotte alive?

Could she be..

"These are not the remains of Charlotte Anne Jane."

XXX

**A/N- I'm sorry the update was so slow! Turns out my exam wasn't cancelled, it was just pushed back, so I had loadsss of studying and revising to do all week. I know I took a big twist in this one.. Please review :D :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 5

**A/N- This is were the rating starts to apply…**

"What do you mean, it's not Charlotte?" Rigsby asked, as Jane sat, dumfounded.

It wasn't her.

It wasn't his baby girl.

It wasn't Charlotte.

It was a girl.

It was a girl killed by Red John.

But it wasn't Charlotte.

Could she..

Could she be alive?

No. No, he couldn't think like that. This was Red John. This was Red John playing him, there was no way she was alive. If she had been, why hadn't he said anything? Why had he.. No. She.. She couldn't be alive.

Could she?

Could Red John have been waiting for him to figure it out? Could Red John have been waiting for the time when he had redeemed himself to have his daughter back.

Could this be his sick way of making Jane a better father?

Could this be Red John?

Could she be alive?

No… The things she would have faced.. Such a young child.. The torture.. The starvation…

Death was the better option.

Death protected her.

Death kept her safe from _him_.

From Red John.

But if it wasn't her…

"Jane? Lisbon asked, sliding into the chair next to him. "Jane, are you.. Are you okay?" She lay a hand on his arm.

"If this isn't her.. If that isn't her.. Wh.. Where is my daughter?!" His jaw was clenched as a single tear run down his face, the entirety of two teams, including three squinterns watching him fall apart.

"We will figure it out, Jane." Angela said softly.

"We will find her," Cam agreed, despite Brennan's silence.

"I.." She took a deep breath. "We will find out what _happened_ to her.." She spoke, quietly as the computer pinged. "What's that, Angela?"

She frowned. "It's an IM from Dr. E John.." Jane shot up.

"That's one of his aliases" He said, reading the message.

_So you figured it out, hu? Yes.. The body was not Charlotte's, but can you tell me if this is? _

A photo shot up. It was a girl.

A blond girl.

A blonde teenage girl.

Jane's blonde teenage girl.

She was tied to the wall with thick heavy chains. Her malnourished body was halve naked, with only underwear and a large top. Her hair was platinum blonde, and it was brushed to frame her bony face. The curls hung loose around her beautiful face. Her eyes were a deep blue, and huge with the innocence of a child.

She was the image of him.

She was Jane's daughter.

His fists were clenched as noise started coming through the receiver.

"Now now, little Charlotte, you see this man?" He held up a photo of Jane. "Who is this man?"

"Patrick.. Patrick Jane.." She said weakly. Even with such a weak tone, her voice was beautiful, harmonically astounding, like and angel singing. Everything about her was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

She was a Jane.

"What does he this mean to you, little Charlotte?"

"He.. He's my father, and I will love him every day of forever.." She summoned all of her courage to look him in the eye. She was strong.

Stronger than him.

Stronger than her grandfather.

As strong as..

"Ahh little Charlotte, you have your mothers heart, such a strong one. Such a beautiful woman too, I should know.." He smiled, so that the camera could see. He wore a black mask over all of his features except his eyes and his mouth. He was Red John. "I suppose we will have to teach you the hard way, wont we.." He hit her. Again, and again.

And every time, she cried out in agony.

She cried out, for him.

She cried out, pleading for help.

"Who is this man?" He shoved the picture in her face.

"He.. He is Patrick Jane. I am Charlotte Anne Jane. He. Is. My. Father." She mustered all of her strength, once again, looking into his eyes, wich ere now only inches from her own, then she spat. She spat on him.

On Red John.

She just spat on Red John.

And he slapped her.

And he kicked her.

And he damn near stabbed her.

"So we're gunna do this the hard way, hu? Okay, so, Jane, you have 48 hours to find her, or I kill her. Wanna know how I found out that you knew she wasn't on one of your slabs?" He laughed. "Maybe you should ask Ms. Wick?" He laughed again, kicking Charlotte.

And that was it,

The camera turned off.

Gone.

His daughter.

Red John.

And he.. HE could do anything he wanted to her.

Anything.

Anything at all.

His daughter.

She was alive.

She was _alive! _

"Jane?" Brennan asked.

"We have to find her. I don't give a damn what it costs. Have any of you got kids?" Every single one of the doctors along with Rigsby nodded. "Okay.. Rigsby, get protection on Ben. Uh.."

"Christine is safe. No one is getting past my dad." Brennan said easily.

"Michel is at College."

"Michael.." Angela and Hodgens said.

"Parker.." Booth spoke.

"Parker is in England. I'll call my dad, and he will go over to your apartment? He can watch Christine and Michael Vincent. Rigsby, if you want to bring Ben, is it? If you want to bring him down here, my dad will watch him too." Brennan said, getting her phone out as she walked from the room.

"Are you sure the kids will be safe with Brennan's dad, I mean.. This guy.."

"Brennan's dad killed the FBI director because he was targeting Brennan and her brother. The kids will be fine." Angela said. Lisbon's team's jaws dropped. "Yeah. He.. Uh.. Yeah.." She looked down.

"Um.. I think I'm gunna call Sarah and have her bring Ben down here. We still don't know if there is anyone in the CBI working for Red John.." Rigsby said.

"Dad is happy to have them for as long as we need. That includes Ben." She looked at Rigsby. "What did he mean when he said, ask Ms. Wick.." Brennan said.

"Oh my God." Booth said.

"Daisy was here, behind me. She knows. ""Daisy's working with him." Sweets walked into the room.

"Hi, I'm Sweets, the physiatrist for this team." He smiled at their reactions. "I'm also a Criminal Profiler for the FBI."

"Where is she?" Rigsby asked.

"We'll start looking." A security guard said, Booth and Rigsby following to make sure no rock was left unturned in the search."

"Ange, can you bring up any background noise from the film? That could make the realm of possibility smaller on her location." Brennan spoke.

"Wait- one of your interns was just revealed as working with a serial killer, and you don't even care?" Van Pelt asked.

"Of course I care. But catching an accomplice is hardly going to bring Charlotte back now, is it?" Her eyes were glued to the screen. "Besides, the best intern we ever had turned out to be working with a cannibal called Gourmagon." Van Pelt shuddered.

"It looks like there are seeds of pollen floating around, that suggests a area with a high pollen count?"

"It must be pretty secluded for him to be able to make all that noise and not be noticed.."

"Here, I got the background noise." Angela clicked another button. The sound of a seaside echoed around the room.

"So we're looking for a secluded beach with a high pollen count?" Hodgens said, as Angela pulled up a map, highlighting three cities.

"She's in Miami, Pensacola or Malibu." Angela said.

"Malibu. She will be in Malibu.." Jane said.

His daughter.

She was at home.

At their home.

All that time.

She had been so close.

She had been so far.

His daughter.

His baby girl.

Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

And then it came.

Another message.

_Well done! Now, if you come to Malibu, you will have three chances. Three chances to guess who I am. Three chances, and then_ _I kill her. Three chances to save your daughter Jane. Can you do it? _

No.

He couldn't.

He couldn't do in forty eight hours what he had failed to do in ten years.

He couldn't save her.

He had come so close, and yet he was so far.

He had come so close to having his life back.

But he couldn't.

He didn't deserve it.

He didn't deserve her.

He didn't deserve them.

And that was why.

That was why it wasn't the child molesting cases.

It wasn't the sadistic serial killers.

It wasn't her undying love for him that tore Patrick Jane apart.

It was him.

It was the blood.

It was the smiley face.

It was the three fingers, clockwise.

It was Red John.

It always would be Red John.

He picked himself up and left the room.

Unresponsive.

Emotionless.

Jane.

Born a Jane, die a Jane.

That was how it worked.

Your born a Jane, you do something stupid, you loose everything you love, you die a Jane. It was the never ending cruel cycle that his great-granddad started.

It was the endless cycle that he was going to stop.

Because he couldn't love anything anymore.

He couldn't love anyone anymore.

Not after her.

Not after Angela.

Not after Charlotte.

He couldn't do that.

He couldn't put her in that line of danger again.

He couldn't hurt Lisbon like that.

He couldn't save her.

He couldn't save any of the women he had loves, whether it be Charlotte, Angela or Lisbon.

But he could do his best.

He could do his best to keep them out of the fire.

He could do his best to keep them away from Red John.

XXX

The cold of late-night DC hit him like a thousand knives crushing their victims. Like a hundred of Red John's knives crushing her.

Angela.

Charlotte.

His wife.

His daughter.

_Lisbon._

He may not get his daughter back, ad his wife may be gone, but he as sure as hell wasn't letting Lisbon anywhere near Red John.

Never.

"Jane?" She asked, stepping into the chilly breeze of the night in DC.

"I cant do this, Lisbon. I.. I cant save her. I don't know who he is."

"We'll figure it out Jane.."

"No, we wont. We can't. She is as good as dead." He spat the last words, and saw the pain fly through her eyes.

"We will find her, Jane, and we will figure out who he is. You know we will." She said, more forcefully.

"What if.. What if I cant do this? What if I can't have a constant reminder of my faliure.."

"Getting her back isn't a reminder of your failings, it is a display of how you succeeded. If you get her back, you have defeated Red John. She looks like an amazing woman, Jane, and if youcan get her back, your life.."

"What if I can't do it on my own." He was facing her, his lips only a few centimetres away from hers…

"You're not alone, Jane.." she began, "You have everyone in there, you have the team.." She paused, as her eyes met his.

"You have me.."

That was all it took, once again, to drive him crazy with lust.

His lips mat hers in a delicate yet passionate kiss as if he were afraid to hurt her, afraid to cause her pain. Everything he had thought about keeping her safe flew out of the window. He couldn't do this on his own, but he could if Lisbon was by his side. He could do this with her. He could live again, if he was living with her. His delicate little Lisbon.

His delicate little Lisbon who grabbed onto his collar and pressed her small frame against his.

His delicate little Lisbon who was giving it as good as she got.

His delicate little Lisbon.

_His_ delicate little Lisbon.

When the need for oxygen got too much, she pulled her lips from his and rested her forehead against his own, her body still firmly resting against his. She looked up into his deep blue eyes that were the size of saucers.

He pulled away, holding onto her waist, and flagged down a taxi to take them back to the motel. Back to their temporary home. Back to a night filled with love, lust and passion.

Because he didn't need Red John.

He needed her.

He didn't deserve her.

She wanted him.

He would have is daughter back.

She would bring his daughter back.

But for now, all that mattered was them, together.

The Jeffersonion would do fine without them.

Red John would wait.

Red John.

Red John.

Lisbon.

Lisbon.

Lisbon.

She was what had kept him going.

She was his love.

She was _his._

XXX

**A/N- So, two chapters in two days! I'm a little upset by the amount of reviews I got yesterda still love them! Remember that rating? Yeah, that's going to apply for the next few chapters (violent scenes, possible character death?) I don't know…**

**I've already got some idea's for the next chapter, so I'll start writing it soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 6

"Bones?" booth asked gently, awaking her from her gentle slumber on a chair next to the bones.

"Booth.. I.. I'm sorry.. I need to work.." She stood, and after rubbing her forehead, she began looking at the same remains. Again, and again.

"I got you a coffee." He said, pushing her back into her seat. Her mental and physical fatigue was clear form her entire demeanour. "We caught Daisy. She was in Bone storage, looking at some remains from the 80's" He spoke placing the coffee in her hand.

"Wait! From the 80's.. That's only a little while before Red John started killing! I need to look at those bones.." She stood and tried to make her way out of Booth's loose grasp.

"Bones, that can wait. You need rest.."

"No, Booth, it can't. If this was Christine, we wouldn't be taking breaks, we wouldn't be having chats over coffee! This girl.. She needs to be found, she needs to be rescued!" She looked towards the techs entering the room.

"I knew you would say that." Booth smiled, placing the coffee in her hand again as she began making her way to the remains.

"Thank you, Booth." She smiled as she snapped the latex gloves over her fingers.

XXX

2:46AM.

2:47 AM.

2:48AM.

Jane lay, a naked Lisbon curled up at his side. His hand was on her lower back, keeping her body pressed up against his, whilst her leg was draped across his waist. Her gentle breathing was soothing for him, as he looked down at the slightly flustered Lisbon. Her hair was tussled, her lips were parted and full, slightly bruised from their night together. Her body was small against his, and as he lay there, he felt her beauty.

Every inch of it.

Every inch of her.

She was one of the most beautiful people he had ever met, both inside and out. She was self-less and caring, whilst she was sporty and active enough to keep her figure small, and model like. She was perfect, like a saint.

She was Saint Teresa.

She was the saint that fell in love with a devil.

She was the saint that fell in love with Patrick Jane.

He looked at his hand, pressed firmly against the small of her back. And there it was.

The reason he had stayed faithful.

The reason that he shouldn't have been in that room.

The reason that he was hunting a monster.

His ring.

The small band around his fourth finger on his left hand. His ring. His promise.

To her.

To his wife.

Not to Lisbon, not to Lorelei, not to Erica Flynn and not to Kristina Frye.

To Angela Ruskin-Jane.

The same Angela Ruskin-Jane who lay, at this very moment on a cold metal slab next to the daughter that wasn't hers. A flash of guilt hit him like thunder. _Why was he here when his _daughter_, the woman who needed him, was out there? Why had he.. How had he broken his commitment to Angela? How.. Why.. What? _

Because he loved her.

He had always loved Lisbon.

And he needed someone.

But that didn't justify it. That didn't give him the right to be here when people were working relentlessly to find his daughter. That didn't justify his betrayal.

He slowly slid from the spot next to Lisbon, leaving a small indentation in the bed from where he had lay. Lisbon moved to the warm spot left b his body and snuggled into the blanket a little more as Jane began picking up his clothes, slowly making his way out..

This was wrong. He shouldn't have been there in the first place. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have left Lisbon, but he shouldn't have been there in the first place. Looking back at his lovers frame once more, he slid from the motel room, leaving any chance of a new life with Lisbon behind him.

XXX

"This is no use. There's nothing here." She concluded, slumping in the chair after countless examinations of the same remains.

"Tell me again. There has to be something here. You just need to hear it to put the puzzle together.2 Booth said, despite the headache that was coming on from trying to understand her words.

"Woman, mid- thirties to early forties, classic Red john wounds, no defensive wounds, broken jaw, probably abused as a small child, she had children, she had a small frame, probably grew up in a native country and looks to be Eurasian. I would say she grew up in Ireland. I told you, we need to get Angela to do a facial reconstruction for me to be able to tell you any more." She concluded.

"Why was her jaw broken?" He asked.

"It looks like it was crushed. It's very common in car crashes" She said, beginning to put the peaces of the puzzle together.

"Have you got a photo of Lisbon?" She asked, as booth moved around to the folders containing the information on the CBI agents.

"Here…." He gave her a photo of the agent.

"Oh my.." She spoke softly.

"What?"

"Oh my!" She said a little louder.

"This.. This woman.. It appears to be.." She took a deep breath. "It looks like this woman is Lisbon's mum!"

"The cuts?" All could have been caused in a particularly brutal car accident." She spoke.

"So why..""This, this is what inspired Red John. He must have known Lisbon's mum!" Jane cried, as he walked in.

"So why did it take him, what, nine years to start killing?" Booth asked, squinting at the remains.

"We need to call Lisbon. Find out if she knows anyone who would fit the criteria." Brennan said, looking at Jane who looked down.

"What's the matter, Jane?2 Lisbon.. She.. She might not be at work today.." He began.

"Did you sleep with her and leave?" Sweets asked from the corner of the room, only just having woken up. This made Booth and Jane jump, having not realised that he was there.

"Uh.. Yeah.." He looked down, realising his mistake.

"Idiot." Brennan muttered, looking at the bones again.

"Yeah.. I.. I'm going back. I'll pick up some coffee..""Make it look like you only left for coffee?"

"Yeah.." He looked down again, before muttering something about it being for her own good and leaving the room.

"That man will be dead in the next hour if he goes back there." Brennan said, as she started looking again at the remains. Booth laughed at the way she had learned from Angela. "What?"

"You really do have a steep learning curve."

XXX

When Teresa Lisbon awoke, she was on her own.

All alone.

She was alone, naked, in a bed covered with human .. Err .. Liquids. She looked up to see her clothes scattered around the floor, whilst there were none of his.

He had left.

Gone.

Like this was some stupid one night stand.

Like this meant nothing to him.

Like she meant nothing.

Because she didn't mean anything to him. She was a mean to an end.

She was a distraction.

No better than Lorelei.

No better than Erica Flynn.

No better than Kristina Frye.

She was just another tab on the bedpost.

She was nothing.

Tears filled her eyes as she sat, still naked on the bed she had shared with Jane. The man she had loved.

The man who had left.

She covered her naked chest, as tears began streaming down her face.

_Why wont you love me?_

**A/N- Woo! Two chapters in one day! Im proud of myself! **

**I just want to say a huge thankyou to everyone who has reviewed! Espially Jane Doe51, thankyou for your continued support! The next chapter will be up soon (I hope!).**


	7. Chapter 7

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter Seven.

"Piss off Jane." Lisbon said, as he walked into her motel room. She was dressed, and stood near the kitchen counter whilst she poured out her coffee. Her gun and badge lay on the table.

"Lisbon?" He said, walking towards her. "I went to go and get a bear-claw from Marie's, and then I remembered that were in DC, where there probably isn't a Marie's, so I went and found a nice little bakery-"

"Shut up Jane. You left. You just left me, and then when you think you could get lucky again, you come back with bear claws and try to make things better. Well, that doesn't mean anything. I know that you left. I know you regret it." She tried to walk past him, as he grabbed her arm, holding her in a tight embrace whilst he stared into her eyes. She could feel his breath against her face as he leaned in closer.

"I will never regret a single second I spend with you.." He said, as he leaned in to kiss her.

But she didn't let him.

She pushed him away.

She pushed him away, and walked out.

"Screw you, Jane."

XXX

"What do you mean- my mother's involved! She's been dead for twenty eight years!" Lisbon shouted, clearly confused and upset.

"We found Daisy placing remains in Bone storage. It was your mother's remains that we found. It was the same cutting style-"

"My mother died in a car crash-"

"A car crash that caused a tree to stab her, right? One branch went through her abdomen, one went through her shoulder, and one slit her neck." "Classic Red John." She whispered.

"Yes. It looks like your mother's death was the inspiration for Red John's cutting style." Brennan concluded.

"Oh. Well. In that case! " Lisbon hauled up her arms before collapsing on the sofa in Brennan's office.

"I know what that means." Brennan said to Booth.

"She was being sarcastic. She wants to know how this helps us figure out who he is." Booth said quietly. Brennan bit her lip.

"That's good and all, but how does that help us find the killer? My ma was a nurse, se knew a lot of people." Lisbon got quieter as the sentence went on. That was the most she had ever shared about her family. Of course, they all knew of the tragic accident, they all knew of her father's alcoholism, they all knew about the abuse.

But she had never _told_ them that.

She never _told _them how her brothers used to cower behind her when they walked in from school. She never _told _them how he hit them, beat them so hard they had all been to hospital, nearly dead, three or four times. Each. She had never _told_ them about her childhood. She had never told them how she had become the surrogate mother of a ten year old, and eight year old and a four year old.

She never told them anything.

And yet, they could all see it in her face. They could all see the memories that haunted her, day after day, night after night, minute after minute. Second after second. The constant reminder that she was the offspring of a monster. Of an angel gone rogue. Of a man who left his children to fend for themselves when they were so young.

Of a Lisbon who had lost someone.

They saw it when he left to. Her team saw her falling apart when Jane left for Vegas. They saw her father in her, they saw the weakest part of her, the part that needed Jane the most. They saw Lisbon without the layers of protection she had built for herself, under her father's rule.

And she was beautiful. She was innocent. She was terrified. She even had a feminine side.

In those six months, they saw how her walls of protection weren't concrete. They saw how she was human, just like the rest of them. Their boss, she wasn't invincible. She just makes people think she is to avoid the pain of loosing someone else.

And rightly so.

Because every tie she loved someone, she lost them.

She had loved her mother and father. She had loved Greg. She had loved Sam Bosco. She had loved her brothers, whom this job had so cruelly ripped from her grasp.

She had loved him.

She had loved Jane. The man who was out to avenge his wife and daughter's death. The man who had sworn his soul to another. The man who had sworn that there was nothing he would do to catch Red John.

Even if it meant death.

Even if it meant sacrificing everything.

For him.

For Red John.

For Angela.

For Charlotte.

He would kill for them.

For his wife.

For his daughter.

For _her. _

_Not if I get him first.._ She thought, as she stood and began fishing out her phone.

"What are you doing?" Brennan asked, as Lisbon began dialing a number.

"I'm calling Tommy. He will have all of my mother's stuff down here tomorrow. At least, the stuff that my father didn't burn. There will be photos, records.. Hello?" She walked out of the room. Brennan gestured for her team to follow, and continue working on the remains of the Red John victims, and Lisbon's mother.

"Jane, Cho and I are going to go for a coffee run. It looks like everyone's gunna need it…" Rigsby said, as he and Cho walked out of the room, leaving Jane and Van Pelt. She sighed.

"You admire her." Jane noted absent mindedly.

"Yeah. I do. Of course, you wouldn't understand." Jane smirked, as he began rifling through papers.

"And why would that be, Van Pelt" He asked.

"because all you've done is drag her through hell. And you can't see it because you've got yourself so caught up in this revenge crap. You.." She took a deep breath. "You act like the husband who loves his wife, who would do anything to get her back, but your not. You just found out that your daughter is out there, being tortured and what do you do? You carry on dragging her through hell, and smirking, and drinking your tea, and playing with everyone's minds." Jane froze. "You, Patrick Jane, are a self centred bastard!" She was practically shouting now.

"I'm sorry you think that." He said, his fists clenched and his jaw locked.

"No, no your not. You don't give a damn-!"

"Yes I do! Can't you see how much this kills me, how much Im hiding! Can't you see how right now all I want to do is go and jump of a bridge over there, because of Red John, and Charlotte.. And .. Lisbon.." He looked away, unable to meet her stare. "I love her, Grace. And I love my daughter. And I' trying. I'm trying to be the best of both worlds for Charlotte and Teresa, but I can't.. She isn't.."

"She isn't making it any easier for you?"

"No. She isn't. because of a stupid mistake.." Van Pelt looked over his shoulder at the small Irish- American who was now standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, Van Pelt. I'm heading back to my motel, my brother is closer than I thought. I will be back in a few hours." She nodded and rushed out of the door, her skin already flushed from the tears that were about to claim her. Jane looked at Van Pelt, who nodded, and he followed her.

"Don't hurt he, Jane." She spoke as he left the room.

He didn't hear her.

XXX

He knocked on the door.

Again.

She ignored it.

Again.

And again.

And again.

"Lisbon?" Still no reply.

Nothing.

Jane looked at the flimsy lock on the door, wondering how much pain she would inflict on him if he picked it. _Probably a lot_ he thought, as he reached for the paper clip he kept in his jacket pocket.

And then he heard it.

Then he heard her,

He heard her crying, he heard each of the tears running down her pale skin, he heard each time she moved backwards and forwards, in a foetal position, rocking herself like a baby.

He heard her talking.

He heard her say his name.

He heard her begging for him.

Begging for him to love her.

Begging for him to forget Red John.

Begging for him to remember her, to remember the love she had felt for him, the love she had confessed to him the day before.

He heard her. He heard Lisbon. He heard his Lisbon, the one and only woman he would love when Red John was dead. He heard the only thing that kept him going. He heard her.

And then he remembered.

He remembered all of the reasons that he had resisted the temptation, all of the reasons he had stayed away from her, all of the reasons he couldn't do this.

Red John.

Red John would kill her. Red John would kill the only thing he had to live for. Red John would kill his second chance, because he screwed up the first time. And if Red John didn't, he would.

He would kill her.

Through stupidity, through lust for fame, through fraud, through revenge, through fear or through stupidity. He would get her killed, he would have her life cut so horribly short.

And he couldn't do that again.

He couldn't loose another wife, another family. Not like he hadd lost the first one.

Not like he had lost her.

Angela.

His one and only reason for living, until she came along.

Charlotte.

His wife. His daughter. Te people he had made a promise to. The people he would stay faithful to until the day he died. The woman he loved, and the child he sired.

His family.

He knew it was ridiculous. He knew he was killing her, even if she would still have a heartbeat when he was done with her.

If she was lucky.

_What have I done? _He had done this. He had put her right at the centre of Red John's radar. He had put her in harms way, shoved her right in front of the train. He had killed her.

Again.

He had killed two women he loved. He had killed his second chance.

Not Red John.

Him.

Red John, he was just the knife. He was just the assassin. He was the hand of death.

But.. But Jane.. Jane was the fat controller at the station. He was the mastermind on top of it all. He was the reason this was happening. Every single one of the people who had died, every single one of the people Red John had sliced up was his fault. His daughter was out there being tortured, and all he could think about was winning back the love of a woman he would surely have killed.

Angela.

Charlotte.

Angela.

Charlotte.

_Lisbon…_

He understood it now. All of it. He understood Red John's motives. Red John.. He wasn't a killer.. He.. Red John was as good as a saint. He was showing people the light, showing people what they had, he was ridding the world of the monsters, one by one. He was ridding the world of the monsters by killing everything they had, and watching them. Taking away everything, killing them from the inside out.

He was doing the right thing.

He turned around slowly, dropping his car keys and the doorstep. His face was stuck in one position, like the emoticons on a phone. He knew what was happening. He knew why this had happened.

And he knew how to save them.

He knew how to save his daughter. He knew how to save his lover. He knew how to save his team. He knew how to save the Jeffersonion. He knew how to save the world.

He knew how to save the world from his wrath.

From Red John.

Red John.

Red John.

From himself.

He knew who the monster was, and the monster had to die. The day he opened that door, the day he first saw their bodies, he knew. He knew that the person who did this had to die. He was going to kill the killer.

He was going to kill himself.

**A/N- I'm sorry for the slow update! It's been a really chaotic week! Thankyou for all your reviews and PM's on the last chapter... I would love some more of those.. :) :) I hope to have the next chapter up soon, but those reviews will definatly spur me on! :D :D **


	8. Chapter 8

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 8

He walked.

He walked like she had walked.

He walked.

He walked because there was nothing left for him. He walked because she loved him. He walked because it was his fault. He walked because she was dead. He walked for his mistakes. He walked for the love he had lost. He walked for him.

Red John.

Red John the psychopath. Red John the serial killer. Red John the captor. Red John the villain. Red John the angel. Red John.

Because he was everything. Red John. He was the wind in your hair; he was the light in your eyes; he was the blue of the sea; he was the saint in the devil; he was the earth that made up the world.

He was everywhere.

And it drove him crazy.

He was everywhere. He was everything. There was no way that Jane could escape. There was no way he could forget. There was no way he could ever forgive himself for what had happened, that night, oh so many years ago.

This was what his life had come to.

This was what he had become. A desperate old man seeking revenge against the devil. Seeking revenge against a saint. He was a ship in the ocean, just waiting for the iceberg that took him down even when he had survived every storm. There was nothing that could save him now. There was no way out.

His time had come.

Time to join them on the land of the unknown. Time to end his suffering. Time to take the weight of the world off of his shoulders. Time to release the world of his sins. Time to say goodbye.

So he felt nothing.

He felt nothing as he walked towards the end. He felt nothing as he said goodbye without saying any words. He felt nothing as he prepared to take his life.

And it came down to that. He was walking. He was walking to the end. He was walking to his future. He was walking to his past. He was walking to his present.

He was walking to the end.

XXX

"The victim in place of Charlotte Jane was Lily Ingram. She was reported missing about a week before the death and abduction of Angela Ruskin-Jane and Charlotte An-" "You know we know their names, right?" Lisbon asked, cringing at the repetitive use.

"I don't have to, but whilst recording my findings it creates a stronger legal case. That is, if they need to use my notes. I thought you wouldn't mind.. Jane.." She looked around. "Jane isn't here."

Lisbon's eyes widened at the realisation. No one had seen Jane since yesterday.. The strange noises outside of her motel room.. The fact that his car hadn't moved since yesterday…

_Where is he? _She thought franticly, pulling out her phone to call him.

No reply.

"Van Pelt, Rigsby take his car and look around for him near the motel.. Cho, take Booth's car- is that OK? The two of you can take the West side of town. I'm going to cover the area near the war memorial." She curtly left the room, followed quickly by the agents and confused stares from the scientists.

They had to find him.

XXX

He could hear the sirens. He could hear the confused shouts of the scared people. He could hear the police, tryng to convince him not to do it. He could hear it all.

But he didn't hear any of it.

He didn't hear her pull up. He didn't hear the woman he loved, the reason he had to do this running towards the barrier that the police had set up. He didn't hear her call his name.

He only saw the end.

He only saw himself, slowly removing his jacket, sitting on the edge of the railing. No point in ruining the best tailored suit he had. Then he was untying the shoe laces, laughing out loud.

He was ready to go.

He was ready to say good bye.

So ready, that he had turned it off. He had turned his senses off, in preparation for the ice cold water he would hit when he fell to his death. What a place to die. Arlington Memorial Bridge. His love, standing so far away and yet, she was so close.

Closer than he had thought.

She was coming closer, trying to stop him. Tears were drowning her eyes and yet, she refused to cry. She was slow, and her pace was gentle as she got closer.

He could have this! He couldn't have the woman he was going to die for try to stop him! He couldn't.. He had to.. He had to die, to save her.

He had to die to save them.

He took a deep breath, and pushed himself forwards.

XXX

How could he be doing this? How could the man she had loved, the man she had given up everything or be sitting on the edge of a bridge, about to take his own life?

No.

She couldn't have that.

She couldn't loose him.

She had lost so much, so many, Jane was right. It was hard for her to deal with loss, and it was even harder for her to trust anyone after she had lost so much. She wouldn't.. She couldn't pull herself back together.. If he.. If he did this..

No.

She couldn't loose him.

She couldn't loose the first man she had trusted with her heart since her mother had died, and her father became the alcoholic that claimed his own life. She couldn't loose her reason for living. She couldn't loose her first, her only true love.

She wouldn't loose him.

She couldn't.

But how could she save him? How could she save the man who had just taken off his shoes and his vest, sitting on the edge of a bridge? How could she stop the pain inside of him from spreading?

How hadd she done the same for her brothers, when they were children?

XXX

He pushed himself forwards, so close to the edge now. So close to the end.

So close to them.

It was almost over. It was almost time to end the pain, end the suffering that he had felt. It was almost time to say goodbye; to her; to the team; to the Jeffersonion; to the squinterns; to the carnival; to him.

To Red John.

It was almost time to rid the world of the plague known as Jane. He was the last one. His dad was dead, he was an only child. He had no uncles, or aunts.

No more Janes.

That was the way it should be. He had accepted that now. He had accepter that there was never meant to be a Jane family, anyway. They were all sinners. They were all perpetrators of crime, not the victims they had made themselves out to be. Not the people they had chosen to be. Not the identities they had taken.

And then he heard it.

He heard her.

He heard her last attempt at keeping him alive.

He heard her sing.

XXX

_London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down,_

_Falling down, falling down, _

_London Bridge is falling down my fair lady._

She sung. She sung like an angel. She sung like an angel, her notes only reaching his ears. She sung for him. She sung for his life, for his hope, for his love.

She sung for Patrick Jane.

_Build it up with wood and clay,_

_Wood and clay, wood and clay,_

_Build it up with wood and clay, my fair lady._

XXX

Because he wasn't a monster. He wasn't a killer. He wasn't a fraud, not any more. He wasn't all the things he had made himself out to be. He wasn't the man his identity said he was. He was Patrick Jane, he was a man. He was a widow. He was a widow who had fallen in love again. He was a widow who had fallen in love again who's daughter needed him.

His daughter.

The little bundle of joy, the little ball of life who he had created, the little bundle of joy who would always count on him. The little bundle of joy who needed him now.

His little bundle of joy.

His little Charlotte, the girl who needed him. Needed him more than ever.

He had a chance.

He had a chance to redeem himself. He had a chance at getting his life back. He had a chance at falling in love again. He had a chance.

He had a choice.

Take the easy way out, or take the chance.

Take the easy way out an sacrifice his daughter, sacrifice his love, or take the chance.

Take the easy way out, and kill her, or take the chance, and save them all.

And he remembered. He remembered the three promises he had made, both to different people, both from different chapters of his life. He had promised to save them, promised to care for them, no matter what it took. No matter who it hurt, who it killed, he would café for these women. He had already broken a promise. He had already gone back on his word.

But it wasn't too late. Two out of three is no saint, but it is better than nothing. Saving two out of every three will save them. Keeping two promises out of every three will not make him trustworthy, but it will make him a better man, a better father, a better lover, a better husband. All he had to do was keep his word. Not like a saint, but like a father. Like a husband. Like a lover. Like a co-worker. Like a friend.

And Patrick Jane was good at not being a saint.

**A/N- Sorry for the slow update! I really wanted to get the suicide right! I have a few friends who have been in this situation, and it's really hard to be in Lisbon's shoes here. Although I haven't ever actually sung to anyone myself, a few of my friends have said music helps them think, helps them stop to see hwat they're doing. Just a littl heads up, if anyone ever trys to commit suicide, don't tell them that they have so much to live for, or any of the crap you see on TV (none of that is even remotly true.)**

This chapter was inspired by Maybe This Time, by OK Go... Reviews? :) :) 


	9. Chapter 9

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 9

"Mr. Jane, would you like me to go through this with you again? I am your federally appointed psychiatrist. If you don't talk to me, if I don't sign these forms to say you are mentally ready to be alone, then you will be put into a mental facility." Sweets said slowly.

"I just don't think this is a good use of my time! My daughter is out there-" Jane began

"And clearing your mind of destructions like suicidal thoughts will help you to see the correct path." He repeated.

"I didn't try to commit suicide!"

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I was looking at the view!" Jane lied easily.

"Patrick, you need to talk to me. I know what you tried to do, and I know why you tried to do it. This," he gestured towards Jane's unshaven face, his ragged clothes, his generally homeless looking appearance. "This isn't going to help Charlotte. This won't help you identify Red John." Sweets began.

"I have to find her-"

"The squints will do that. It's usually better not to get in their way." Sweets paused.

"Talk to me, Jane." He finished.

XXX

"Okay, this is the list of suspects." Angela said quietly, her voice strained. Every member of both teams had been in the lab all day, and all night. They had to find him. They had to find Red John.

And the clock was ticking.

Fourteen hours left. Fourteen hours to save the daughter of their friend. Fourteen hours to go over each suspect on Jane's list over and over. Fourteen hours to get to Malibu. Fourteen hours to catch Red John.

Thirteen hours and fifty-nine minutes

"Okay, here is all of the people that Jane identified as suspects…" Angela pulled up a large circle on the Angelaton, filled with smaller circles. "Each circle represents a different suspect. So.. Who do we filter out first?" Angela looked at the agents.

"Start with the people who don't have alibis." Lisbon said.

"Okay… There are four hundred and twelve people, without the filter. That leaves a hundred and forty people." Angela spoke, the agents and scientists quietly observing.

"Then do the people who didn't have the strength to subdue the Jane's wife. The defensive markers on her ribs and arms show she tried to shield something, presumably Charlotte." Brennan noted.

"That takes away thirty six people. We still have a suspect pool of a hundred and four." Silence filled the room.

"Take away the people who don't have kids." Booth said, followed by looks of confusion from the scientists. "He said in the note he left for Jane that he had killed his wife and _child. _Why wouldn't he personalise it a little more here and say daughter?" Booth looked around, as Sweets caught on.

"Because he lost a child! Red John must have lost a child when before he started killing! That's why he said child. I've never actually seen this before.. But it makes sense. Red John feels a kind of pain when he takes the life of a child, but he felt the need to show Jane how precious the life of a child is, so he kept her-""Okay, we get it Sweets." Angela pulled up the suspect pool. "Six people left."

"So what now.." Brennan said. "We're already going off of pure fiction!" It came down to that. There was nothing but that. With Red John, it was guess work. With Red John, there is nothing but guess work. There wasn't enough evidence to shorten the suspect pool. There wasn't enough man power to question each suspect. There wasn't enough to catch him. They were running on fiction. They were running out of fiction to create truth.

But all fiction is based on fact.

All fiction is based on some form of logic.

All fiction has some form of truth.

And she saw it.

She saw the truth buried between the pages of fiction.

She saw the truth buried under the lies.

She saw the truth from his past.

"Run the six suspects against the list of Jane's clients." Lisbon said quietly.

And then it happened.

The name was there.

The face was there.

His face was there.

Red John.

They knew who it was.

They knew who Red John was.

**A/N- Sorry it's a short one but… Well.. I suppose you get the point.. ****J J Reviews? Thankyou! **


	10. Chapter 10

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 10

"Listen, it's already taken us enough time to get out here-"

"Yes, and now it is our job to get her out of there safe, Jane. We can't do that if you're playing daddy of the year whilst revenging mummy!" Lisbon said quietly, in the car outside Jane's house. Her words were probably a lot harsher than they needed to be, but Jane was right. They were running out of time. They were so close, yet so far away.

They were going to catch him.

Red John.

They were going to get his daughter back.

Charlotte.

The little girl who had been through so much. More than any child should have to go through. She had witnessed the death of her mother. She had been at the hands of a serial killer for upwards of ten years. She had been legally dead for every single second of those ten years. She was the child who had evaded death.

Charlotte.

Red John.

One was associated with the other. One should not be associated with the other, but they were. They were the perfect juxtaposition. A devil and an agent. Blood and water. Evil and good. Guilt and innocence. A killer and a child.

Red John and Charlotte.

Charlotte and Red John.

And now they were going to find them. They were going to separate the killer and the child. They were going to remove the evil from the good. They were going to take Charlotte from his grasps.

Red John.

Always Red John.

Red John, the man who had killed his wife. Red John, the man who had held his daughter hostage. Red John, the man who was inside his house. Red John, the man who was inside of his home. Red John-

"I know you're out there Jane. I know you brought all of your little friends from the CBI, and the Jeffersonion with you. I want you to come out here, Patrick. I want for you and Teresa to come here. I want Teresa to leave her weapon, or Charlotte dies. Patrick? Paddy' boy? Come on friend. Come to me. Come and save your daughter."

"Dad?" A small voice cried out.

That was it. That was all it took to drive Jane over the edge.

Again.

He stood, and walked towards the house. She followed. He looked up, covering his eyes from the sun. She did the same. He looked at her gun. She put it on the floor and kicked it to the house. They were behind them. He could hear them muttering. She could hear their doubts.

They could hear her. Her small whimpers as he pushed the chair she was tied to towards the window. They could see the knife that was pressed up against the top of her neck. They could see her.

And she was stunning.

Her loose blond curls, shining a mind blowing blonde. Locks of different colours. Honey blonde, strawberry blonde, light brown. She had clearly inherited the hair colourings of both her mother and her father. Her eyes were bluer than the sky. Her frame was small, and her skin was fair. She was stunning.

She was a Jane.

"So who am I? Who am I Patrick?"

He had to respond. He had to say the name of his wife's killer. He had to say the name of the man who had kidnapped and tortured his daughter. He had to say the name of the man who made him sick. He had to say the name of the serial killer known as Red John.

But he was ready. It had taken him ten years. It had taken him a suicide attempt. It had taken him falling in love, only to have his heart broken again. It had taken him all of this, to find her. To be able to face him, without feeling the need for revenge. To be able to sacrifice the revenge he had lust for, for the daughter he had grieved. He was ready. He was beyond ready.

"You.."

"Yessss… Patrick? Who am I?" He took a deep breath.

"You're nobody. You're a sad little man with a need to avenge your ego to the world. You're angry because no one knows you. No one sees you. No one can _admire _your… Handy work.."

He knew. He knew who he was. He knew who this man was. He knew the two words that would identify him. He knew the

"You are Vint Molinari."

XXX

"You are Vint Molinari."

"Of course. Of course you get it. Of course you figured it out." He laughed, and stepped forwards, revealing his face. It was him.

It was Red John.

It was Vint Molinari.

He was Red John.

"Come on up, Patrick. The door is open. Oh and Teresa, leave the gun. I will kill little Charlotte here, if you don't follow my instructions." He stepped out of view before Cho or Booth could get a clear shot, being the only snipers on either team. Jane stepped forwards, closely followed by Lisbon.

They were going to do this. They were going to face down Red John.

**A/N- Another really short one (I'm sorry!) but I have to forgive myself. I needed the emphasis. ****J**

**I'm also sorry for the slow update! I've been training for ages now for the Virgin London Marathon next on the 21****st****, so I actually should've had time to update this today, but I pulled a muscle earlier, and I got really bored. Seriously bored. :D Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews?**


	11. Chapter 11

Folsom Lake- Chapter 14

She could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She could feel every mind-numbing beat of that goddamn heart of hers, clenching tighter than a fist with force that she would not be able to survive with much longer. Pumping adrenalin around her body. Keeping her going. Forcing her on.

A few steps left.

A few steps until she faced his nemesis.

A few steps until she was face to face with the man who had diced up the love of her life's wife, who had kidnapped and held his daughter hostage for upwards of ten years without anyone knowing she was even alive, who had abducted her to get Jane, who had been such a small, insignificant person in her life until she found out that he was a murderous serial killer.

A few steps.

A few less steps.

Even less steps.

There was no backing out now. She was, most likely, about to face her impending doom. It was more than likely that she would never walk away from that room, this house, this road, this street, this beach, this city, this _state. _This was it.

She was about to face him.

They were about to face him.

Red John.

Always Red John.

Not the child molesting cases.

Not the sadistic torture cases.

Not her undying love for him.

Red. John.

XXX

She was there. His daughter. And she was there. His love. And he was there. His nemesis. Two roses, two thorns. The child, the saint, the killer and the fraud. All in the same room. All in the same situation. All awaiting the death they knew was probably not too far away.

_Not Hers. _He thought. He wouldn't let her die. His daughter. The child and the saint. They had to make it out of here. He would make sure they made it out of here, if it was the last thing he did. The team would care for her, and her. He just had to get them out.

The fraud, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. For the first time in over a decade, the fraud, he wanted to live to the fullest. He wanted to see his little girl grow and flourish. He wanted to be with the saint that deserved so much better than him. He wanted to see his team step into themselves. He wanted to see his life. But it was too late now.

Unless he could get out of here alive. Unless he could give up the revenge he swore to, for the life he wanted.

And then he remembered.

He remembered his wife.

He remembered her smile. He remembered her screams of agony as she gave their bundle of joy life. He remembered her cries as they created the bundle of joy. He remembered her smug smile as she beat him at cards. He remembered the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

But they weren't Angela's.

They were Lisbon's.

They were the emeralds that stood in glassy frames on the most beautiful face he had ever seen, minus that of his daughters. _This probably isn't the best time to be thinking about how much I love her… _He thought, as she nodded at the door knob, telling him to open it. Telling him to open it like he had on that awful night, ten years ago, when he found his wife, and the girl he believed to be his daughter, dead. His hand reached out and touched the cold metal sending a chill down his spine. He slowly turned the knob, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Preparing himself for his daughter. Preparing himself for death.

And he heard it. He heard the latch pop as he pushed the door open. He was prepared.

He was prepared for death.

XXX

It was killing them. All of them. The remaining members of the CBI team, and all of the squints (+Booth) from the Jeffersonion. They heard their breaths, steady and calm whilst hiding the fear and panic they felt as their friends walked toward the end.

As they walked towards Red John.

Each second of waiting made heir hearts beat a little faster. Each minute caused another wrinkle of stress to appear on their foreheads. Each moment caused their impending doom to seem more and more real. This was the defining moment. This was the few seconds that would forever be burned into their minds. This was the end.

And then they heard it.

They heard the screams of a young girl. They heard the shouts of hear father. They heard the laughter of the serial killer.

They heard the three shots.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

XXX

**A/N- Reasonably quick update (I'm impressed with myself on that one). I think I can feel this one closing up too.. Maybe another two chapters? Not long now though.. ****J J I would really appreciate some more reviews to spur me on! **

**I want to say thank you to everyone who has already reviewed, especially Jane Doe51, janesbioch and TheBonesGirl33. Thankyou! :D :D **


	12. Chapter 12

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 12.

"Hello Patrick, Teresa." This was sick.

"Vint-" This was so, so sick.

"Now now Patrick, why don't we let our guest put her two pence worth in first?" This was so incredibly sick it made Volker seem like a saint. "Teresa?"

She didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Letters wouldn't string into words, words wouldn't string into sentences, sentences wouldn't string into speeches.

This man.. He was a monster. Her mind couldn't register the shock of having found out that he.. That red John was an actual person. Not some red eyed blood sucking demon, and actual person. The kind of person that you don't look at twice in the streets. The kind of person you smile at and say morning as you shuffle through the crowds. The kind of person you have a chat with as you walk to your car. _How can this man be such a- _

"Monster? Agent Lisbon. I'm not a monster, I'm just a man, who, as Patrick here so nicely put it, is angry at the world for ignoring me. But you know that's not true, don't you? Everyone knows who I am. I'm like the real life version of Super Man." He laughed.

And that was what got her. The way he was surrounded by cops, the way he knew he couldn't- he wouldn't- get out of here, and yet he was so smug. So incredibly smug that it hurt. He was pleased with himself. He congratulated himself for her loss of words. He congratulated himself for torturing Charlotte. He congratulated himself for killing so many. He congratulated himself for having so many deluded minions. He congratulated himself for eating away at Jane.

And that made her find her voice.

"No.. No you're not. You _are_ a monster. You kidnapped this little girl, you _tortured_ her. You tortured her father, for what? Because he pissed you off in an interview? Because he got a little to smug?" She laughed out loud. "Guess what? This is the real world Super Man! People do that! People get a little big headed! People get a little arrogant! That doesn't mean you can kill their wives and kidnap their children!"

"Is there something you would like to say to me, Agent Lisbon?" He stepped forwards, now only a few feet away from her, backing her towards a wall.

"Yeah. There is _Vint._" She laughed again, as backed her against the wall. "You. Are. A. Monster."

And then she heard it. She heard the screams of the young girl. She heard the shouts of her father. She heard the laughter of the serial killer. She heard three gun shots.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

XXX

This was it. This was him. This was the last man his wife had seen. This was the man who had tortured his daughter. This was the man who had killed her.

His love.

His _first_ love.

This was the man who had pushed Lisbon into silence when she first saw him. This was the man she was arguing with. This was the man who was moving past him, ignoring him in his rage fuelled mission to get to and kill Lisbon.

His second love. His true love.

Lisbon.

He realised what she was doing. She was distracting him. She was distracting him with her words filled with passion and hatred. She was giving him a chance. And he was going to take it.

He slowly and stealth fully moved towards Charlotte, as she shook with fear in her chair. The one she was bound to. The one she was sinking in to. He knew what he had to do.

He sunk down so he was level with her, and moved to her ear. He knew what he had to say to make her calm. He knew what he ha to do.

"You are safe, you are loved and you are wise." That was it. She was calm. She trusted him, he was going to make it okay.

And then he heard it. He heard her screams. He shouted out himself. He heard the laughter of the serial killer. He heard the three gun shots.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

XXX

She knew this was risky. She knew that she would be reprehended for it. She knew that her actions could get them all killed.

She knew it could save them to.

Her breathing was steady, easy, like she had been taught in the police academy. She was calm, slowly making her way up the stairs. She could hear Lisbon. She could hear her shouting. She could hear her giving him a mouthful. _Give it to him Lisbon. Make him .P.A.Y. _

She walked around the house like a predator. She was silent, and she was going to go down through the roof. Jane had shown her the blue prints to the house, and she knew there was a built in wardrobe at th back of the room with a hatch to get into the loft. All she had to do was get past them.

She went on all fours when she entered the loft. Her gun back in its holster she slowly edged along the loft. These flooring panels were thin. She could still hear Lisbon, calling him a monster now. She found the hatchet, about five meters away from the one she had entered through. Pulling it open, she dropped into the small room.

The door was partially open, and she could see Lisbon backed against the wall as Jane spoke to his daughter. She could hear him too.

"You are safe, you are loved and you are wise."

It was now or never.

She burst the door open, and she heard the screams of the young girl. She heard the shouts of her father. She heard the laugh of the serial killer. She heard the three bullets that she fired.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

XXX

Chaos became of them. People running. People screaming. Outsiders trying to get a look. News reporters trying to get the gossip, because they all knew. They had all been told.

He was in custody.

He had been shot down.

He was in critical condition at a hospital, doctors fighting to save his life to make him pay for what he did properly.

Red John.

Red John was dying. Red John was as good as dead.

XXX

"Today, a great thing happened. After fifteen years of active killing, a serial killer known as Red John was apprehended by one of our most successful teams. We have Agents Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt along with consultant, Patrick Jane, to thank for the capture of this killer. Today, at approximately halve past one, Agent Lisbon and consultant Patrick Jane had to face the killer, as he held Patrick Jane's daughter hostage. The decision was made that, as the smallest and quietest of the agents who had been left outside in the face off, Agent Van Pelt would come to the rescue. She came through the loft of the building and through the built in wardrobe. She then surprised the killer whilst Agent Lisbon distracted him. Charlotte Jane, the child who was believed dead until the Jeffersonion team proved that otherwise, is with her father, and will make a full recovery. Red John has been identified as Vint Molinari. He is known to have many informants, moles and minions throughout the entire board, and this teams job, once they have all gone through the proper procedure, will be to catch and imprison those people.

"Vint Molinari, AKA Red John, received three shots to the back, and is now fighting for his life. I would just like to have a moment of silence, a moment of prayer whilst I ask the public to think of the sacrifices these teams have made. These agents have risked a lot throughout the investigation. They took it on where others wouldn't. I would like for this moment to be in memory of Samuel Bosco's team, who also had the case, but were killed by an insider. All of these brave people have given up a lot to take killers off of the street. Today, we see an example of amazing teamwork, and the things that these brave people can do. These people have gone into the darkest of corners, faced their biggest fears, risked their lives for civilians. These people know of some of the worst things and darkest patched in America, and every day, they face that. Alone. Here, we see how these people are the best of us, how they are our guardian angels. They are blessings." Minnelli finished up and moved from the podium as the news reporters started flinging questions at him.

"Thank you, sir." Lisbon said as he walked past.

"Thank you, Lisbon, for catching Red John. That goes for all of you." He looked at both of the two teams. "You have done a great deed today, and you will all be rewarded for it. Now, you will have to excuse me, I have to go and deal with the formalities." He nodded and stalked off.

"Bones we have another set of remains in DC to get to…" Booth said as he snapped his phone shut.

"It's been a pleasure working with you, Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, Jane. I'm sure you enjoyed working with me and my team just as much as we did yours. If you ever have any degraded remains-"

"Bones, we really have to go-"

"Feel free to call us in." She smiled at them and walked away, Booth following closely behind after he said his goodbyes.

"Well. That's Doctor Brennan for you." Rigsby laughed.

"Someone's in a good mood Rigs." Lisbon raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah it's just.. Ergh.. I.." He stuttered, moving away from Van Pelt who was now bright red.

"Look- the paramedics are bringing Jane's daughter out." Cho cut him off.

There she was. Just as stunning, if not more, as when they first saw the girl. Her eyes the same piercing blue, her hair the same staggering blondey brownish colour, her face still a holding a paleness that made her lips seem pinker, fuller. Mad her eyes seem that little bit bigger. Made her hair shine that little bit brighter. She was a new level of beauty.

She was a Jane.

And there was the Jane, plastered to the side of the hospital bed she was in. He didn't give them a second glance, more worried about the safety of his daughter.

His daughter.

The little girl who was now on her way to the hospital. The not so little girl that had been through more than any child should. The girl who needed her father.

Jane.

"We should all get to the hospital, for support." Lisbon said, looking towards her car. The team nodded, waiting eagerly to meet the littlest Jane.

Lisbon looked up. There he was. With her. His daughter. The most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

They were beautiful.

Father and daughter.

Father and daughter, reunited.

Beautiful.

She sighed and began making her way to the car. It was going to be a long ride.

**A/N- This is coming to a close now.. Seriously, I think there will be one more chapter and an epilogue. Reviews to keep me writing! :) :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 13

"She's sweet, you know?" Lisbon said as they strolled along the path. It had been a long day, and the nurses had requested that the team go home. Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho _were_ already at their cars, Jane was walking Lisbon's to hers.

Jane chuckled. "She defiantly has her mothers heart."

And she did. She was more than sweet, she was loving. She was forgiving. She was beautiful, both inside and out. She was just like her mother. She _was _her mother.

"Lisbon?" He pulled gently at her arm, so she was facing him. "Teresa. Thank you, Teresa."

"Don't worry about it, I was just.. I was doing my job." Her breathing hitched as he placed his hand on the small of her back, pulling her slightly further into him.

"Thankyou for helping me get Charlotte back, but that wasn't what I meant. Thankyou for keeping me sane, Teresa. Thankyou for keeping me in line, all these years. Thankyou for giving me a reason to go on.." His lips were now only a few centimetres from hers. "But I think it's time I repay the favour.." Stars. Stars got a little brighter in her mind as his lips touched hers, gently, yet with undeniable passion. Planets stopped spinning as they deepened the kiss. The world stopped for them in those few seconds. The world stopped for their love. The world stopped for their passion. The world stopped for them.

Them.

Not her. Not him. Them. Two things, two people, becoming one. Two people joining, both emotionally and physically, in a way they never thought possible. Two people becoming one.

Two people in love.

They pulled apart, the need for air taking over and looked at each other. They looked into each others eyes, getting lost in the other's love for them. Drowning in the abyss of love for each other. And then they laughed. They both laughed for how long it had taken them to get to this point. They both laughed at how ridiculous it was for the two of them to fall in love. They both laughed at how they were made for each other against each other. They laughed. They just laughed.

Because they were two people in love.

**A/N- This was such a short one that it's stupid, but it said averything it needed to say and a little more. The epilogue will be up soon! This is mose definatly the last chapter (minus the epilogue). I still love reviews! **


	14. Epilogue

**Red Bones, Red Bones- Epilogue.**

**A/N-**

**Thankyou to everyone who had read and reviewed, liked or added this story to their favourites list- you have no idea how much it means to me. So this is it- the last chapter. I'm going to move this story to the crossover section in a few days, so if you want to find it, it will be there. I'm so sorry for the slow update, I haven't really got an excuse. Well.. Here goes.. : )**

They where his life now. She was his life. She was the reason he got up in the mornings, the reason he kept going through every day. And she, she was the light of his life. The purist thing he had ever seen. The angel in the darkness.

His daughter.

Lisbon.

Them.

The little girl, the sweet little, innocent girl that he had thought he had lost forever. The woman who caught him every time he fell. His daughter and his love.

Because they lead the same lives now. Charlotte was consulting for the CBI, just like him- minus the law suits and trouble. Lisbon was about a week away from being persuaded to move in with him.

A week away from being persuaded to move in with them.

And Charlotte, well Charlotte.. She was… She was her mother. She was kind hearted, and she was open to everything. She was funny, and she was intelligent. She was adored, and she was adoring of others.

She was loved.

By everyone.

As a daughter, as a almost sister (Grace) , as a friend, as… More.

Because who knew what they would become. They challenged each other, they debated with each other, they gave each other a run for their money. They connected.

Cho and Charlotte.

So who knew what they would become? Who knew if they would be extraordinary friends? Who knew if they were soul mates? Who knew if they were going to be enemies? Who knew if they were already something more?

And that was the beautiful thing about it. The possibilities. Their lives were no longer consumed by Red John. Their lives were no longer lead by his actions.

They were lead by the child molesting cases.

They were lead by the sadistic torture cases.

They were lead by each other.

By the undying love that they harvested, already bursting at the seams.

Because it was undying. Though thick and thin it had not seen a scratch. Through the time when they refused to admit to it, it did not relinquish. Through the minutes of the hours of the days of the weeks. Of the months of the years. Through it all, they had been harvesting the energy to break the laws of physics. They had been harvesting energy to put the killers behind bars. They had been harvesting energy to find each other. To find their way to happiness.

And along the way, they had made some extraordinary friends.

The people of the Jeffersonion. They were recovering from the case to. Their bonds got tighter every day. Their lives got diluted with each others with every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every month, of every year. They were together. And that was what helped them through it all.

All of them.

That was how the two teams caught killers like the Gravedigger, like Tommy Volker, like Howard Ebbs, like Doctor Wagner, like Gormogon.

Like Red John.

And then they served them justice. They handed them their balls on a silver platter. They showed them that they were not invincible. That they were not superheroes.

And they did that in whatever form of punishment they saw necessary.

Exposure.

Prison.

Death.

And that was what they did. Because the killers were not the superheroes. The killers were not invincible. The killers were not a team. The killers were not undetectable.

And that was their downfall. That was the killers downfall. Because they thought they were indestructible. They thought they couldn't be caught. They thought it was impossible for them to be stopped.

Well they were wrong.

And their downfall was that they messed with the real superheroes of America.

**THE END.**


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